


Come see inside my bones

by cucumber_of_doom



Series: The most dangerous Omega in London [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bloodplay, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Knifeplay, M/M, Omega!Jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 03:30:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cucumber_of_doom/pseuds/cucumber_of_doom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You could still mark me,” Sebastian murmured, eyes closed. “You could give me a tattoo or something. Wouldn't even need to tell what it's going to be beforehand, boss. Even if you pick something silly, I'll wear it with pride.”</p><p>Jim chuckled.</p><p>“Don't tempt me, Tiger.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come see inside my bones

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Deftones' Knife Prty

Sebastian carefully balanced the grocery-bags in one hand as he went into the flat. Jim who was seated at the head of the dark wooden dinner table in the living room behind his laptop screen. The criminal didn't even bother to look up as Sebastian walked by him. A bad day, then. Possibly the reason why he had texted Sebastian to pick up groceries instead of letting someone else handle the mundane task. Jim looked tired and stressed and his natural scent started to bleed through the layers of artificial Alpha pheromones. The mixture of scents was enough to make the taller man nearly dizzy as he passed by the table to take the bags into the open kitchen area. 

The flat was too quiet. Normally there would at least be some obnoxious music playing, but the only sounds were Jim's typing and himself putting away the bag's contents. He hadn't seen the other man since he left this morning, and was sure Jim hadn't eaten since breakfast. Eating was something his boss seemed to forget when he was busy managing his empire.

The last bag contained a ceramic bowl the sniper now carefully extracted from it's styrofoam wrapping. The food was still hot, as one would expect from a five-star restaurant. Dropping the name 'Moriarty' made it possible for Sebastian to grab the food and go.

“Boss? I bought you dinner. Some Cassoulet from that French place you like,” he broke the silence after carrying the pot over to the table.

“Why?” Jim snarled, not taking his eyes from the screen.

“Because I wanted to buy you dinner?” he shot back, putting the pot down on the smooth wooden surface.

“Don't treat me like some weak little Omega who needs to be taken care of.”

“What's wrong with getting you food? You need food to function, so I bought you some. If I want to buy you some fucking dinner instead of cooking that's what I'm going to do. Bloody hell!”

Leave it to Jim to make his blood boil in a matter of seconds. 

Nonetheless, he opened the cupboard above the sink and went through the motions of setting the dining table. He took out the expensive china and silverware that Jim insisted that they have, although Sebastian personally didn't understand why they needed it. 

Jim was still skittish after the whole debacle following their first shared heat. Getting him pregnant had never been part of the plan, even if the Omega had got his way - not keeping the child. Even worse was Jim's insecurity, which made him even more unstable than usual.

Sebastian bit his tongue. Instead of saying anything he simply shoved both plate and food closer, then took a step back and simply waited. At least Jim actually lifted his head this time to stare at the porcelain pot in front of him.

“Cassoulet you said?”

“Yes.”

The criminal sighed, but kept an eye on the dish.

“What is it with you and buying me things? Not only do I have more than enough money on my own, but whatever you earn came from my pocket in the first place,” Jim said, still behind his laptop, although he had stopped typing. Sebastian stood to his right, half a step back.

“I don't have to, I want to. I still spend most of it on guns, but in the end they are also for you. It's you I kill for, boss. This isn't me trying to provide for you,” he explained, still calm and collected, while Jim buzzed with energy.

“Then what is it?”

“Sometimes I want to spoil you rotten. Not because you are an Omega, but because I want to make you happy. Because you deserve to have everything you could ever wish for. I want to buy you fancy meals, even if I know you will only eat half. I want to kneel at your feet until your done. And if you forget about me during it, that's okay. I'll just stay and wait because you will remember I am there if you should really need me.”

The words were out before Sebastian could stop them. It was nothing but the truth, even if he went too far with them. Sure, Jim liked him to be submissive in bed most of the time, but all-out asking to be allowed to kneel at his feet was something different altogether. That was fucked up, even for him. Sebastian swallowed, suddenly scared to make the situation even worse. Maybe, if he never mentioned it again, Jim would do the same and refrain from kicking him out.

The man did neither. Instead he closed the laptop, focused his coal black eyes on the sniper and simply stared. Suddenly being the center of his attention was as unsettling as ever until Sebastian started fidgeting. Not before then started Jim to speak again. 

“You only set the table for one?”

“The food is for you, I can eat later.”

“I will eat it. And you...” Jim pointed at the floor next to him. “You may kneel down, as you suggested.”

He hadn't actually expected Jim to concede - not ever, not with the mood he was in - and knelt down with only a slight groan. Whatever lifted Jim's mood was right.

“Thank you, boss.”

For a long while neither of them talked. For the moment there were no words --Sebastian knew his place. As long as Jim would let him stay, everything was just as it belonged. He had no idea when things had shifted to _this_. Had it been the night he discovered that Jim, even with being an Omega, could still make him go silent with a single word? Maybe it had been later, maybe earlier and maybe there was never anything to change - he had been Jim's from the day the other had picked him from a seedy pub in Hackney to offer him a job. Sebastian had shot a man for him that very night, returned to his run-down flat a few hundred pounds richer and wanked to the memory of the gorgeous Alpha he would probably never see again. Never had he dreamed to ever earn the privilege of Jim's trust; enough to let him know he had been born an Omega and taking Sebastian to bed.

“I bet you fantasize about me being an Alpha sometimes,” Jim said into the silence.

Sebastian bowed his head and swallowed before he answered. Jim hadn't been repelled by his earlier confession and he honestly felt too content right now to come up with anything but the truth.

“I do, from time to time. Not that I don't love the way you fuck me, boss, because I do. But sometimes I can't help but think how nice it would be if you could knot me. I'd want you to fuck me raw and mark me and make me all yours so everyone would know with a whiff that I'm yours, completely with body and soul.”

“You would like to be my bonded little bitch?”

The question sent a hot wave of arousal through his body that made him painfully aware of the erection trapped in his jeans.

“Yes,” he breathed and Jim extended his hand to pet his hair. This was new territory, Jim wasn't gentle, never. Sebastian immediately leaned into the touch. 

“What else would you like?”

“I want to choke on your cock and take whatever pace you set when you fuck my throat.”

The fingers kept carding through his hair, a silent reassurance that it was alright to say these things. 

“We could alter your scent, make you smell like the bitch you are. Not that anyone would believe it, not with a body like yours. All that muscle just screams 'Alpha'. So sad,” Jim mused.

“You could still mark me,” Sebastian murmured, eyes closed. “You could give me a tattoo or something. Wouldn't even need to tell what it's going to be beforehand, boss. Even if you pick something silly, I'll wear it with pride.”

Jim chuckled.

“Don't tempt me, Tiger.”

“I mean it. It's just that I want something of you on my skin all the time, so when I die in some godforsaken place and someone finds my body, I want them to know that it belongs to someone else. It wouldn't even need to be anything that could be traced back to you, because I guess you wouldn't want that. Only something that says someone owns me. Because you do. Own me, I mean.”

When Jim went still, Sebastian's eyes snapped open. Had he gone too far? But the fear eased when the criminal shoved back his chair to take a better look at him.

“Strip,” he ordered.

The sniper took a deep, steadying breath before he slowly rose to his feet, hesitantly making eye-contact. He was far from shy about his body, especially in front of Jim. Hell, he had seen him naked more than just once, but tonight was unknown territory.

Jim, who looked like a predator in his suit, nodded in his direction.

“Go on.”

The blond pulled the black t-shirt over his head and dumped it on the floor. He knew he wasn't graceful, but he trusted Jim to speak up if he expected an actual show. Until then he bent down to unlace his boots, pull them off and finally open his jeans and pushed them down his legs. 

“Lay down on your front.”

Sebastian went down again and hissed the moment he trapped his painfully hard cock between the cold hardwood floor and his body.

Jim rose from the chair to crouch down next to him.

“I bet you would be sopping wet by now, if you were an Omega. Wet and open and begging for my cock,” he said, voice slightly hoarse with arousal. “But to be honest, I like you better this way, because making an Omega kneel and beg is no accomplishment. I have done it before, picking up some poor bitch in heat, each of which had been disgusted as soon the worst of their heat was over. They always tell themselves they want the real thing.”

He slowly trailed his hand down Sebastian's spine, making the man shiver.

“Whenever I fuck you, you feel incredible tight because your body is not made to take a cock. I can hurt you in ways no Omega ever would and you even thank me for it. That makes it so much more precious.”

Jim leaned down to roughly bite his ear.

“One day I am going to take you dry. All we need to do is to clear your schedule for a while to give you time to lay still and recover, because believe me: it will hurt and it will be too much. I will fuck you without any preparation until you bleed and afterwards I will make you clean my cock with your tongue in gratitude.”

The words made Sebastian moan and Jim finally sat back up.

“But not today. Today I will give you what you asked me for so nicely. Wait for me, Tiger and don't you dare move.”

Jim left for the bathroom to fetch the first-aid supplies and a towel. When he returned some minutes later, Sebastian was where he left him on the floor, lying completely still but for the ragged breathing. Jim took a moment to take in the view, then he pulled one of the black silken throw pillows from the sofa to sit down on. Next he sat down the medical kit, opened it and arranged the needed supplies next to Sebastian. Gauze, rubbing alcohol and a sterile wrapped new scalpel.

The Irishman's fingers danced across the scars on the others back. The most interesting scars were on the ex-Colonels chest but that didn't make his backside any less appealing. There was the place where a bullet had grazed him during his army days, old and faded, as well as the array of small round cigarette burns on the right shoulder, acquired after his return to London before he appeared on Jim's radar. 

“Your skin scars so prettily, Basher. I want to give you some scars of my own.”

His hand finally came to a rest in the small of Sebastian's back and the man let out a small chuckle.

“You want to give me a tramp stamp?” he asked but Jim only smiled.

“Isn't that what you are? My little bitch?”

He loved the way Sebastian's breath hitched.

“Whatever you want me to be, boss.”

“I am going to carve my initials into your skin, like one would engrave them into an expensive watch. Any of my most valuable possessions should have them.”

“God, boss...”

Jim leaned down to his ear again.

“And in this location I will see them whenever I fuck you.”

“Please, boss, please. Cut me, mark me, whatever you want. Just do it.”

The begging was enough.

Jim poured some alcohol on a piece of gauze to generously wipe the area he intended to work on. What he wanted was to put a few new scars on his sniper's skin, not to let him catch nasty infections. It would only let the shape of the scars go blurry. Next he tore open the scalpel's wrapper, grabbed it lightly in his left hand and put the right one down on the expanse of Sebastian's back.

“Be still.”

Sebastian couldn't help but tense up in anticipation of the first cut. When it eventually came, his breath hitched, but he stayed otherwise still.

“Good boy,” Jim muttered while wiping away the blood in preparation for the next cut. It came just as steady as the first one.

“Two done, five to go.”

“Fuck, Jim, go on with it.”

That earned him a hard smack to the arse.

“Silence,” he ordered, but he also finished the first letter with a single sharp movement, cleaned away the new blood and set the next four lines in rapid order, each letter as tall as one of the criminal's fingers. 

“Now you look right, Basher.”

By the end of it Jim was out of breath and all he could do was not to grind against the floor. Jim brought his hand down again, this time on the other cheek.

“Arse up, pet.”

Sebastian groaned as he pushed up to his elbows and knees, sending a fresh surge of pain to the fresh cuts on his lower back. Having Jim giving commands while his natural Omega scent slowly grew more recognizable drove him nearly out of his mind. The sound of a belt and fly being undone sent a shiver down his spine right before Jim – still mostly clothed – squeezed against his backside.

“My precious little slut. If you could only see yourself,” he breathed hot against his snipers skin, reaching around with his right hand and grabbing Sebastian's aching prick. “You look so good on your knees. Just like you belong.”

Jim worked him fast and hard, making the blond keen. His mind went pleasantly blank, only concentrating on the roughly moving hand slicked with his own pre-come. 

“I am yours, Jim. Yours.”

“Mine alone, you're damn right,” Jim hissed into his skin, followed by a hard bite to the back of his neck.

“Jim...”

“Come for me,” he demanded and Sebastian obeyed nearly immediately. It didn't take more than a nearly painful squeeze around his forming knot to push him over the edge. Jim followed seconds after, spilling over the sniper's bloody back. Together they sank down, Jim on top of him, despite the fact that it risked ruining his designer suit.

So much for keeping the wound sterile, the sarcastic part of Sebastian's brain provided, but was ignored. It wouldn't kill him-- he had lived through worse. It was supposed to scar anyway. Better make sure of that. Not that he cared anyway, neither about scars or the puddle of rapidly cooling come he lay in.

“You will still get a tattoo, but that will be done by a professional tattoo-artist. Nothing but the best for my property,” Jim started again a few minutes later after catching his breath and carelessly pinning Sebastian down.

“Thank you, boss," he murmured.

“Basher, you are precious,” Jim said, suddenly laughing. “I will keep shaping you until you are exactly as I want you to be. Your mind, your body: you will be perfect.”

“Aren't I already? Perfect for you?” Sebastian asked sleepily. Jim reached out to pet his hair again, that strange tenderness back in his voice.

“Not yet. But you try your hardest, so you are forgiven."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to DreammasterLoki for beta reading :)


End file.
